Wrongly Accused

Depresion,seems to be a sentence,for the wrongly accused.

Invisible bars surround me,
as, I serve out a sentence.

Yet, confusion consumes me
for, no crime have I committed.

Unaware, of it's length
my hope fades, my strength withers.

As often I've dreamt,
of escape only to find that I remain,

trapped within the deep dark
recesses, of my fractured mind.